


The Anniversary

by WPAdmirer



Series: Chicago Stories II [21]
Category: E.R., X-Files - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WPAdmirer/pseuds/WPAdmirer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walter surprises John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately.
> 
> SPECIAL NOTES: Okay, over the weekend Melissa reminded me that Nov. 25 was the 2 year anniversary of Walter and John meeting. Seems that others keep better track than I do. (grin) So I promised this attentive soul a special PWP to mark the occasion.

Walter stood and surveyed the set up in John Carter's room. He'd found an excellent single malt. The bottle and two glasses sat on the bedside table. John took his neat, as did Walter, so there was no need for ice or water.

He'd changed the sheets on the bed, putting on the set he'd brought with him from D.C. They were crisp and new. Walter loved the smell and feel of new sheets.

A CD of decent jazz was in the player. Walter had carefully hidden all of John's jazz organ CDs. In the two years they'd been together, he still couldn't tolerate the sound of jazz organ. It was an acquired taste he just couldn't acquire.

Walter had showered and shaved, and changed into a pair of dark grey slacks and a long-sleeved turtle-neck. He was barefoot. His feet were a little cold, but he knew that for some reason it turned John on when he was fully dressed except for bare feet.

Kerry had confirmed that John Carter was working days so he would be home in the late afternoon. Much to Walter's amazement the weather had cooperated and the flight he'd scheduled for early Saturday morning had actually gotten out on time and landed in Chicago just twenty minutes later than scheduled. He'd picked up his rental car and driven straight to the house.

A change of shirt and underwear were in a small carry-on, along with his shaving kit. He had to fly back to D.C. the next day. Which was fine. John would be working. He'd have to go in around seven and Walter would leave around nine. He'd be back in D.C. in time for lunch, and catching up on the work he'd taken home from the office.

Walter heard the front door upstairs open. His penis hardened at the image of John Carter dressed in a long woolen coat, carrying his backpack over one shoulder. His face would be pink from the cold. He'd be snuffling because his nose would be running from breathing cold air. He'd be carrying his gloves.

There were footsteps in the kitchen and Walter hurried over to the bed, sitting down, leaning back against the headboard. His legs stretched out across the bedspread, crossed at the ankles. His large bare feet clearly in view. At the last minute he took off his glasses and set them on the bed stand next to the bottle of scotch.

The bedroom door opened and John Carter stood framed in the opening. He still wore his coat, and he carried his gloves and backpack in one hand. The other hand was on the door knob, and in his mouth was a pretzel. His eyes widened and he smiled broadly when he saw Walter sitting on his bed. He took the pretzel out of his mouth.

"Oh, my God. Santa came early."

"I hope you're not implying that I look like a jolly, old fat guy."

John Carter dropped his gloves, backpack and pretzel on the floor as he headed for the bed. "Definitely not."

Walter could taste salt on John Carter's lips and tongue. His kiss was long and lascivious, which was very promising for the evening.

John broke away and rubbed his bearded face against Walter's freshly shaved cheek. "I'm not complaining, but I really didn't expect to see you."

"Don't tell me you forgot?" Walter whispered against John Carter's ear.

"Forgot what?"

"What today is."

John pulled away and looked at Walter. "I have no idea what you're talking about Walter Skinner. It's Saturday. November 25. The year 2000. Two days after Thanksgiving. What? What am I missing?"

Walter grinned. "Two years ago, on this very day, you made me spill good scotch all over my favorite tie."

"You remembered the date?"

Walter laughed. "Wednesday I received a request for transfer from an Agent Wilson. He's spent the last two years in a remote field office in Alaska, thanks to me. The order was signed on November 27, 1998."

"Did you approve his transfer?"

"Yes. I thought it was the least I could do since he brought us together."

John Carter smiled and Walter felt his heart catch for a moment at the beauty of it. Two years ago he'd asked to delay coming to Chicago until after Thanksgiving. The Deputy Director had insisted that he deal with it the day after Thanksgiving. Thank God. For everything that had happened, the trouble with Krycek, Edson's murder, having to face Mulder and Scully with the truth about his private life, he'd do it all again and in spades for what he'd gained.

John reached down and stroked the sole of one of Walter's feet. He looked at Walter and his smile turned wicked. "I think we're both wearing too much."

"Really?"

John Carter nodded. He stood up, pulled off his coat and tossed it toward the door. He pulled off his suspenders, grabbed his shirt and dragged it, along with his t-shirt, over his head without unbuttoning it. He unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks and they dropped to the floor. His boxers followed immediately. He kicked them both aside and stood there wearing nothing but dark socks and an erection.

"Get rid of the socks."

John Carter grinned. "Why?"

"They don't go with your look."

John reached down and pulled off his socks, lifting one foot at a time and dropping the socks on top of his discarded clothing. "Better?"

"Much."

"Now you."

Walter stood. He stripped off his shirt and dropped his slacks. He was hard enough to cut glass. He stroked his penis and saw John Carter's eyes dilate with desire.

"Commando, huh?"

"Only for you."

Walter pulled the bedspread back and sat back down, settling against the pillows. John was on him before he could get comfortable. His knees on either side of Walter's hips, he pushed his groin against Walter's, creating a delightful friction between their erections.

Walter groaned against John's mouth. John's hands found his nipples, pinching and rubbing until they were hardened peaks. Walter grabbed John's buttocks and pulled him closer, rubbing against him, feeling John's penis and testicles hot against his own.

Neither of them could wait, Walter realized. They were already too close. He reached between them and grasped both penises together, squeezing and stroking. John's hands braced on Walter's shoulders and his head went back, his mouth open.

"Oh, Jesus! Walter!"

Walter felt his heart racing and the pressure, pleasure at the base of his penis became intense, and then burned up through him, making him cry out incoherently.

Their semen splashed against their bodies and washed over Walter's hand, hot and thick. John's head dropped until his forehead rested against Walter's. Walter could feel John's panting breath against his face.

After a moment their breathing returned to normal and Walter released his grip on their penises. John seemed to melt against him, his head going to Walter's shoulder.

"God bless Agent Wilson," John said softly.

Walter chuckled and held John close. "Yeah, God bless."


End file.
